


the monument of a memory (you tear it down in your head)

by amrensjewelry



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But technically, Death Eater Sirius Black, First War with Voldemort, Gen, Inspired by Fanfiction, Post-Hogwarts, a lot of these characters are minor because it accidentally turned into all introspection, if you squint really hard & imagine my intentions u can spot remus lupin/sirius black, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28688865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amrensjewelry/pseuds/amrensjewelry
Summary: telling a friend that the friend who betrayed you told you that your other friend betrayed you is a rather complicated business.(a missing scene, for now, from saudadeonly's death eater!sirius fic in which remus and the potter's view sirius' memory)
Relationships: Remus Lupin & James Potter, Remus Lupin & Lily Evans Potter, Remus Lupin & Peter Pettigrew, Sirius Black & Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	the monument of a memory (you tear it down in your head)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [someone to you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23673076) by [saudadeonly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saudadeonly/pseuds/saudadeonly). 



> started and finished this one between midnight and 3am tonight and decided to just post it. i have not read it over a single time, so there might be glaringly obvious mistakes. i also am dead tired, so honestly it might make no sense. i wrote it mostly because i'm going through withdrawal from saudadeonly's amazing series and have spent the last few weeks just imagining missing scenes (very dramatic ones in my mind) from this series and thought i should at least do something semi-productive with them. helped that i was avoiding doing all of my homework with this. 
> 
> this fic will make very little sense without reading saudadeonly's series first. it's not necessarily canon to their canon (although not directly against it either), not hp canon, and not compatible with the other fic i wrote for this fic either, lol.
> 
> fic title from the song various storms & saints by florence + the machine

_October 1981_

_“Then he turns on the spot and thinks of Harry’s green eyes.” (someone to you by saudadeonly)_

Remus is relieved when the apparition takes him to the same red front door he remembers from the last time he was able to snatch a visit with the Potters between full moons and missions to the werewolves. Part of the worry was that they could have already been placed under the Fidelius Charm, that he was too late. Too late to see them, to say goodbye, to warn them? He isn’t sure which he was dreading so much, but he knows it existed even before he followed Sirius into that alleyway. The other part of the worry, the part that feels petty but he can’t quite bring himself to chide himself for is the fear that the Potters would have already moved.

It wouldn’t be the first time Remus has arrived at their home to find them gone, which is why he apparated thinking of the people instead of the place. But even though the people are the home and what really matters, there is something so especially alienating about needing to learn a new home every few months and missing the in between steps of moving out and moving in, of watching it become a home. Almost never is Remus able to arrive at his best friend’s house and not need to ask where the guest bathroom is. On top of everything else he has dealt with today, he is not sure he could have dealt with that just one more thing.

 _Stop being so bloody dramatic. You sound like Sirius,_ Remus tells himself, shaking free of the introspection and finally lifting a hand to knock on the door. A pause, where there would be muffled voices if the protective and silencing charms on the house weren’t so strong, and then the door cracks open, a sliver of James’ hair, glasses, and the end of his wand becoming visible.

“What was the first type of chocolate I ever gave you for Christmas second year?” asks James through the door.

“Chocolate cauldrons, and you gifted me chocolate for the first time in first year.”

“That I did. Created a monster, didn’t I?” James grins, lowering his wand and opening the door wider to let Remus in. Remus forces a smile back at the joke and fond memory, but the memory and feeling is tainted by the realization that two of their group have turned to the other side, and that he is the one who has to bear this news.

He is still deciding whether it would be better to let James and Lily know right away to avoid having time for the emotions to build up or if it is better to wait and enjoy his time with the family before he shatters their world again when he follows James into the living room and sees Peter sitting on the couch besides Lily, who is laughing at something he said.

“Remus!” Lily calls out the moment she looks up from her companion. “I didn’t realize you were back! Come sit down, you have got to stop leaving me alone with these two for such long periods of time.”

This time Remus is not even able to force a smile for her, eyes locked on Peter. Does he look tense? Are his eyes darting because he’s a cowardly, suspicious traitor, or because it is all of their instincts these days to keep track of a room? Is he wearing a coat because he only just got here and was cold, or is it an extra layer to hide a tattoo on his left arm?

Remus hates himself for the doubt, but he hates it more that he knows the answers to those questions don’t really matter, not when he knows the conclusion must be true. It makes too much sense, it is just too horrible to not be true.

He only realizes he’s been staring at Peter too long when Lily repeats his name and Peter gives him a crooked, hesitant grin, saying “Alright, Moony? I know I’m a looker, but all this staring is going to give me the wrong idea.”

“Right. Ehm. Sorry. I’m fine, just tired, you know.” “Well then sit down! Honestly. The full was only a few days ago, you should be resting and drinking tea, not going out on mysterious missions for Dumbledore,” commands Lily, and pushing through the haze of his thoughts, Remus obeys her.

He isn’t really sure what else to do, if he’s honest. He didn’t have much of a plan coming here in the first place, but with Peter in the room, those he did have are shot. He deserves the benefit of the doubt, probably, given the intel was from Sirius, and Remus is undoubtedly biased there. At least until he can talk to James and Lily, watch the memory in a Pensieve.

But all of his experience with the werewolves, with this bloody war, with Sirius, tells him to act as if his suspicions are correct first. He would, if he could only figure out how they are saying to act. Is it fear, for what Peter might do, or heartbreak, at the loss of another friend, or anger, at his betrayal? Should he take Lily and James and Harry and run, should he stay and yell at Peter some, try to get him to tell the truth, should he pull out his wand and curse, like he still didn’t do outside of the Hog’s Head, even knowing without a doubt that Sirius was guilty?

He doesn’t know. He barely knows anything at all anymore. He goes through the motions, goes when Dumbeldore tells him to go and does what he tells him to do, comes back and tries to relearn his best friend’s lives, locks Sirius and everything else away in his heart and mind, tries to remember how to live in the few moments he gets with his friends or alone and in peace between moons and missions.

Maybe it’s because he has been living his life on autopilot for so long, has learned so well how to lock someone away in his heart, that he is able to get through the afternoon with James and Lily and Peter and, once he wakes up from his nap, little Harry, who deserves so much to live in a better world. His friends are not stupid, he is sure they realize something is off, but something is nearly always off, and it is easy to write it off as a result of the moon, of the war, of the news.

Finally, finally, when the sun has long set and Harry has been put to bed, Peter gets up to leave, citing his need to work early. He seemed normal all night, his behavior different from when they were all together in school, probably, skittish where he wasn’t before, but confident in ways he wasn’t then, too. He is still Peter, still Wormtail. It is impossible to say if he is guilty based on his behavior alone, he does not go from Peter, member of the Order, to acting like a screaming, bigoted Death Eater in a single night.

So while Remus’ gut tells him to get up and stun Peter before he leaves, before he is able to do any damage, he stays seated, watching James and Lily seat him out, turning and turning the small vial of dark memory in his pocket, wishing he could pop the lid off and let it all pour out without ever seeing the contents. He doesn’t know if he can stand to know for sure, doesn’t know if he can stand to take a trip into Sirius’ head to find out.

Remus blinks and the door is closed, James and Lily quietly conferring just outside his hearing before reentering the room with a blunt, “Right, so what’s really wrong? It’s not the moon, I’ve known you long enough to know it’s more than that,” from James.

At least he won’t have to find a way to bring it up. He still doesn’t know how to say the words. “I-” he begins, but it gets caught in his throat, despite him having all day to figure out how to say it. “It’s-” His eyes dart between the two of them. James, so proud to be his father, so careful to include and support all of his friends. Lily, obsessed with little Harry, glowing in motherhood and wifehood, willing to give up the good fight just to protect her family with everything she has.

He finally settles on Lily. It’s easier, because she’s so no nonsense, even with all her compassion, and for all that is everything to all of them, she wasn’t there from the start, Peter and Sirius are only friends, never brothers.

“I went to the Hog’s Head before I came here,” he manages to get out at last. There, starting from the beginning, always a good place to start. “For a drink, you know. Just to rest, for a bit. I wasn’t even sure I would come here today. Thought I might rest for a night.” He pauses, swallowing. Despite James and Lily’s sympathetic, understanding, if slightly confused, faces, none of that was relevant. It was the easy stuff.

“At first, y’know. I thought I must have drunk more than I thought, or maybe I was more tired than I realized, seeing things that weren’t there. But-uh-it was real, he was there.” Now James is looking more confused, and Lily more worried. He spits it out before they can ask the question. “Padfoot was there, sitting in the Hog’s Head, waiting for me. As Padfoot, I mean.”

Distantly, he hears James react, a quiet pained noise, and sees Lily’s concerned look turn towards her husband, but nothing drastic yet. They’ve seen Sirius and Padfoot before, no matter how painful it is each time. Remus ignores the reaction, knowing it will only get stronger, knowing he has to get it out now while he can, not sure if he could stop the words from spilling out now anyway. “He beckoned me to follow him into the alleyway. I don’t know what I was thinking, but I did.” Angry, indignant, scolding sounds this time. “He shifted as soon as we were out, and I drew my wand, but he didn’t. Seemed offended I thought he would.” Now he let out a bitter, choked laugh. He was barely speaking to Lily anymore, couldn’t notice them, he just needed the story out. “He told me there was a spy.” Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lily and James exchange a look. So everyone else had known, then. He also sees the confusion, though, the hope. Was it a taunt, was it a hint. James looks like the wrong answer could break him, like the possibility of the right one was filling him with enough hope for the whole country. “He said the spy was Peter.” And with one sentence, Remus is able to give him both answers.

Silence, for a long moment, a million expressions running across their faces. Lily gathers herself first. “Well, obviously he was lying.” Her voice is weak, but she wouldn’t lie to herself either.

“Yeah,” James manages.

“It’s a tactic, to, you know, tear apart our ranks with mistrust,” Lily adds on, gaining a bit of conviction.

James nods along. “Sirius.” Stop, start again. “Sirius would do that. Pete. Pete wouldn’t betray us like that, though.”

“Of course. Only one of them is a confirmed Death Eater, after all. So obviously you told him to fuck off, right Remus?” questions Lily, directing the focus of the conversation to Remus, the last place he wants it. Especially because he can’t give them the answer or the assurance they want.

“I didn’t. Not then, anyway. He. Um. He gave me a memory. Like the kind you would put in a Pensieve. I’m not saying Peter’s guilty! I’m-I’m just saying I don’t want to risk innocent lives, your lives because we couldn’t suspect a friend. We’ve been wrong before. And he had the information he would need to be a particularly destructive spy,” Remus replies, talking past what was asked of him, even as Lily and then James tries to interrupt him because he doesn’t know if there’s something wrong with him for being so quick to believe Sirius, the known Death Eater, if it’s wrong that he still believes him, if it’s possible he’ll lose all of his remaining friends over this.

To his surprise, when Lily does respond, a moment after he finishes, as if to make sure he’s done, it’s not an argument or doubt. Her expression and tone is considering as she says, “It can’t hurt to watch the memory. Maybe it’s real, maybe it’s not. Either way, it’s possible we learn valuable information about the Death Eaters from watching it, whether it has to do with Peter or not.”

“Right. We got handed a fragment of a Death Eater’s mind, willingly. We should be suspicious, but you’re right, it could be very helpful. We just need to find a Pensieve,” continues James, seeming immensely comforted by having a reason to watch the memory without needing to admit belief in Peter’s guilt.

“Dumbledore has one, right? I’m sure he’d let us borrow it, especially because he still hasn’t returned your borrowed Invisibility Cloak,” replies Lily. “We can Floo him now, no need to tell him what we need it for until we know more for sure.” She heads to the fireplace to make the call, and Remus slouches back in his chair, relieved that for now, the decision is not in his hands alone.

A half hour later, the Pensieve is sitting conspicuously in the middle of the Potter’s entrance hallway, the easiest place to bring it in. The memory vial is in Remus’ hand, and all that’s left to do is pour it in and find out for (almost) sure one way or another. He stands by it not being worse than finding out about Sirius, but it is so much harder to be in control of his own knowledge. Ignorance is bliss, and it is dangerous, but it is so tempting.

But it’s not about him. It’s about James and Lily and Harry, the best people he knows. He can face the truth for them, and it’s not like he’s facing it alone. They’re right next to him. He pops the stopper of the vial and pours the substance in, watching the dark liquid sink into the basin and fill it with the vague imprint of a memory. He looks up at his friends. “Ready?” he asks, and at their nod, plunges his head into the bowl besides theirs.

Immediately the room darkens and expands. He doesn’t recognize his surroundings, but he’d bet he is in the home of some rich Pureblood family, judging by the ornate ceilings and columns and the excessive gold and black marble. At the end of the room is a fireplace and a long, black wood table, filled with a few figures in dark robes. The majority of people are standing just beyond the table, between in a fireplace, loosely huddled in a semicircle around something he cannot see, enthusiastically laughing and jeering at whatever it is. Behind him, the sound of steady footsteps on the hard, echoing floor, clear and distinct even with the noise. A few of the figures in front of him turn at the sound, with varying reactions and non reactions. It is hard to make out the people across the large room, but Remus is pretty sure he can see Bellatrix respond, and she is grinning.

Following their cue, Remus turns, noticing James and Lily do the same beside him, just in time to spot the figure remove his too-familiar mask to reveal an altogether too-familiar face under it. He should have been prepared, seeing as this was his memory, but seeing Sirius again so soon makes him stumble back a step, and James has gripped Lily’s hand hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

As usual, especially in cases involving Sirius, Lily is the voice of calm and reason. “Come on, we have to follow him. We don’t want to need to watch the memory twice.” Reluctantly, the two of them follow Lily and Sirius, or the memory of him at least, further into the room.

A few of the people still sitting greet Sirius as he passes, but not very enthusiastically, and while a few receive nods in return, most get only a look of disdain. He easily parts through the crowd of Death Eaters in the huddle once they notice who he is, but Remus and the Potters are not close enough to slip through the path he made and their view of the initial proceedings is blocked by the crowd.

“My Lord,” Remus hears Sirius’ cool, smokey voice say, elegant even in deference, even as the respect in the tone makes Remus want to throw up or throw a curse, no matter how ineffectual it would be in a memory.

“Sirius,” hisses Lord Voldemort from the front of the crowd, although Remus still cannot see him, and he doubts he was the one the Death Eaters were jeering at, jeers which fell silent when Sirius cut through.

From this angle, it is impossible to see what they were cheering at, though. With this is mind, he begins to walk around the crowd, keeping an ear on the proceedings as he makes his way behind Voldemort so he is in front of the fireplace, facing the Death Eaters in the semicircle. As he goes, he hears Voldemort ask what news Sirius has for him, and Sirius cooly report on the death of an outspoken halfblood. Idly, Remus wonders who the halfblood was, as Voldemort seems far too interested in such a mundane report for a Death Eater.

Once he can see, he finally spots the subject of the jeering, a figure huddled on the floor in front of Voldemort’s feet, barely a meter away from Sirius, yet Sirius only spares a glance for the figure after he is done with his report, acting as if he had not noticed them before then.

“And who is this?” Sirius asks, voice somewhere between vaguely curious and vaguely amused, and totally aloof. For a minute, Remus thinks for sure the figure is Peter, and almost hopes it is. Maybe Peter is the spy, but he was forced into it, tortured into submission by the jeering crowd. It would be cowardly, yes, but forgivable, understandable. They could still help him. A glance at James tells him he is reluctantly hoping for the same.

“Oh, this?” Voldemort asks. “It is an honored guest, of course. Providing tonight’s entertainment. I thought we might all enjoy some music. Listen to how beautiful his voice is. _Crucio_.” As the man screams, he throws his head back in pain, enough to show that it is surely not Peter, although his face is so bloody and swollen Remus is not immediately able to place him. Should he feel relief that his friend or not being tortured, or dread that this does not have that simple of an explanation?

“Yes, you’re right of course, he’s got Celestina Warbeck beat. Whatever is the name of this rising star, and where did you find him?” joked Sirius, a rakish, cruel smile growing on his face, not quite reaching his blank eyes.

“This is Fabian Prewett, though of course you wouldn’t recognize him without that atrocious red hair. He is a gift from our newest hopeful, you might have met?”

Suddenly Fabian’s identity is all too clear. Voldemort, for once, is right, he is harder to recognize without his hair or his twin when his face looked like that, but the lines are all right. Remus feels sick. Fabian was a friend, a loyal, effective member of the Order. One whose body they never recovered, could not even say with certainty if he had been killed at the scene or captured. They had their answer now, and he hates the fact that at least for some time after, Fabian was alive, could have been saved. By now, the Death Eaters surely grew bored, and he was dead or worse.

James’ hand on his shoulder and understanding look draws him back out of his grief in time to hear Sirius question who it was he knew. When Peter is pushed from the middle of the crowd into the center where Voldemort, Fabian, and Sirius are, Remus wishes his expression could be as shocked as Sirius’ is before he covers it up again with a mostly blank, faintly amused expression.

“Huh, of all of the ‘78 Gryffindors. I suppose he makes sense, he was always the least Gryffindor, though it probably also makes him the most useless,” sneered Sirius, voice dripping in disdain as he glanced at Peter from head to toe before dismissing him with a turn of his head and facing Voldemort again.

“Perhaps, Dumbledore does especially love his rash Gryffindors, but you have your uses, and sometimes a more Slytherin like Gryffindor is far more useful. I’m sure you would agree,” remarked Voldemort, but he sounded amused.

“For a bit, sure. Anyone can outlive their usefulness though, especially one so quick to change sides,” dismissed Sirius, something angry growing in his voice. _What right does he have to anger?_ Remus wondered. _None, none at all._

Voldemort hummed. "You’re right, of course. I greatly appreciate this newest gift, though, don’t you? As long as Brave Peter here can keep it up, of course.”

Peter jumped, looking nervously between Voldemort and Sirius, unsure of who to appeal to. He risked a smile Sirius’ way, complete with wide eyes, and receiving only a cold stare in return, turned back to Voldemort. “My-my Lord, have I not proved very useful? I have recognized the error of my ways, is that not the goal?” squeaked Peter, sounding suddenly more like a rat than he ever had before to Remus.

“Of course, but most have not strayed so far from my message, and worked so steadily against the preservation of strong, pure wizarding world,” Voldemort hissed in response, long white fingers starting to idly twirl his wand in his hands, seemingly a mindless gesture if one did not know better.

Peter, for all that he was underestimated, was clever, and certainly not oblivious. He glanced down at the wand, and gulped. “Then I suppose I must do much to make up for it,” he tried.

Voldemort laughed, and Remus felt as unsure as Peter looked whether that was a good or bad sign. “Well then, go ahead and do. How will you prove your devotion and loyalty? What will you deliver me next time?”

“My-my lord?” stammered Peter, but he quickly rallied at Voldemort’s hardening expression, and Sirius’ growing satisfaction next to him. “I have heard-I have heard that there is a prophecy,” Peter began slowly, hesitating at the obviously growing interest in the crowd around them, including Sirius, and the growing anger on Voldemort’s face.

“And what of it? I already know what it says. This is old knowledge. Apparently I do not need you. You must do better,” warned Voldemort, beginning to raise his wand.

“I-I can, my lord. I know to who the prophecy refers-” “As do I-” began Voldemort, but showing more Gryffindor bravery than he had the rest of the night at the least noble moment possible, Peter interrupted him to finish. “And I know where they live. I can deliver them and their son to you,” rushed Peter.

Voldemort’s wand lowered, a contemplative, appreciative expression on his face. Beside him, Sirius glowered. “Do go on, Mr. Pettigrew,” hissed Voldemort, before the memory faded away.

Remus pulled out of the Pensieve gasping for air, falling over when he pulled himself out too hard, and landing on his arse in the Potter’s front entrance hallway, whose bright lighting and colors felt odd after the time in the dark, imposing room of the memory.

Lily and James both managed to not fall over, but James and then Lily chose to slide down to sit on the ground against the door just behind him, and Remus backed up until he was shoulder to shoulder with James. They sat like that, sitting silently pressed close together, for a long time that could have been 10 minutes or two hours before James managed to break the silence, to Remus’ surprise.

“If that wasn’t tampered with, it’s pretty damning,” he whispered. Nods from both sides of him.

“We need to show that to Dumbledore. None of us are good enough at mind magic to know for sure on our own. And if it wasn’t tampered with, we can’t be in charge of deciding what to do next,” added Lily.

“We should bring it to him right away, before Peter. If it’s true. Before he’s able to do more damage,” Remus suggested.

“Of course,” agreed James. “Right away.”

“Yeah, before he goes to bed,” added Lily.

“Right,” Remus agreed as well.

But none of them moved. It was hard to keep moving when your world was so totally shattered for the second time. It was harder when, this time, there were no curses flying at them to push them to action, no less emotionally entangled friends to pull them through to the other end. They were soldiers in a war and they had to keep pressing on when they were too tired and they forgot why they were doing it anymore. But sometimes they couldn’t, and all they could do was sit in silence with the ones they loved wondering why.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading :) kudos and comments much appreciated. my tumblr is @natalieshieldss.


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